I love you not
by DreamerLoverHaterKillerMolder
Summary: 'And that's the problem: I don't love him, but he's too lovely to let go.' And that makes him a bastard, he knows it, but Arthur has always been a very selfish person. UkCan/CanUk/MapleTea.


**A/N: Here's another one, kiddies.**

**Edit: Improved flow, tweaked some things.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

* * *

Arthur is seventeen the first time he has Matthew.

Matthew lies beneath him, strikingly beautiful as sweat shines on his brow and gasps slip from his lips. To look into Matthew's eyes, brimming with affection, and know that he doesn't reciprocate those feelings evokes a deep sense of shame that Arthur has been avoiding for weeks now. He's been taking advantage of Matthew's feelings for him, allowing him to think that there's something more between them, even _encouraging_ him to believe so. Arthur knows that it's wrong, that he's doing a terrible thing, but he can't bring himself to stop; Matthew is beautiful, and Arthur is weak.

So he avoids making eye contact.

When Matthew reaches completion, breathlessly declaring his love, Arthur doesn't respond, pretending that he didn't hear him.

Maybe he feels remorse.

Maybe he doesn't.

* * *

He does.

Matthew is beaming at him, blond strands falling into his face as he gazes at Arthur, chin resting in his hand. He watches Arthuer pore over his textbook, shifting slightly before he says, "I love you."

Arthur freezes, not expecting Matthew to be so forward, and flounders in silence for a moment, wondering what he should do. He can feel Matthew's expectant gaze on him, boring into the top of his head, which is still bowed despite the fact that he is no longer reading.

It occurs to Arthur that Matthew doesn't know that he has stopped reading, so, against the wishes of his conscience (_you need to stop leading him on; you need to let him go_), Arthur returns to his book. The seconds pass at a tortuously slow rate, with Arthur struggling, and failing, to maintain his focus. He turns the page when too much time has passed for him to still be perusing its contents, knowing from his failure to absorb any information that he will have to reread the chapter later on.

After a few minutes, when Arthur thinks it safe, he looks up. Matthew looks slightly downtrodden, his eyes downcast as he makes invisible designs on the tabletop with his index finger. His bottom lip is being worried, the action making Matthew's lip even plumper than it was before; he looks even more like an angel. Seeing Matthew so downtrodden is heart-wrenching, because those beautiful lips should be curved upwards and those gorgeous eyes should be twinkling. It's a shame to see someone so breathtakingly stunning in such a state, to witness the angel's heart break.

Arthur returns to the book, resuming his earlier preoccupation (pretending to read) before Matthew can look up, _'That's the problem: I don't love him, but he's too lovely to let go.'_

And that makes him a bastard, he knows it, but Arthur has always been a very selfish person.

* * *

It's cruel of him to encourage Matthew like this.

They're in Arthur's apartment, curled up on the couch with Arthur's head resting in Matthew's lap, the former hanging onto consciousness by a thread. He hadn't meant to have Matthew spend the day with him like this, watching movies and laying in each other's arms, but he had asked Arthur if they could watch a movie and Arthur hadn't been able to say no, mesmerized by violet eyes and a sweet smile. Arthur also hadn't meant to end up in such an intimate position, with Matthew carding slim fingers through his hair and shooting adoring glances at him each time he looks away from the screen, but Matthew had insisted that he lay down and Arthur was too weak to resist.

Arthur is always unable to deny Matthew, which is exactly why Matthew believes that they are in a relationship. In a way they are, what with all the time they spend together and their monogamy, but that is only because Arthur couldn't bear to see those pretty features marred by pain.

So he remains, he remains and keeps up this charade, hoping that the beautiful man with the shining eyes will never leave him.

* * *

Arthur isn't interested in Matthew's personality.

Matthew would make a good friend, being very loyal and reliable, but Arthur knows that Matthew would never be able to gain his affections. He's very soft, as well as shy, and there is nothing remarkable about him (sans his looks, of course).

At least, that's what Arthur believes until he sees Matthew paint.

Matthew drags his brush across the canvas with practiced strokes, imprinting it with his essence. He flicks his wrist, splattering a bit of paint before making several quick strokes surrounding a circle. Matthew's hand hovers over the painting for a moment, moving downwards and making a bold line. He withdraws once more to place more lines on the canvas, pausing to tuck a stray strand behind his ear before signing his name at the bottom right-hand corner.

When he steps back, revealing his completed work, Arthur cannot suppress his gasp. Matthew has painted him, in vivid detail, with everything, from the impressive eyebrows to the curve of his jaw, exactly as it should be. But Matthew's vision is more striking, because Arthur has never been so impressed by the sight of himself; perhaps it's the shadows cast across his face, the depth in his eyes?

Regardless, Matthew looks so appealing at the moment, with his talented hands and the paint on his cheek and the violet (_like his eyes_) ribbon keeping the hair out of his face, that Arthur takes him against the wall.

"So beautiful." Arthur whispers into Matthew's ear, pounding into him so roughly that the other can do nothing but moan in response, "Stunning."

And that's when Matthew says, "I love you."

Arthur doesn't respond, instead busying himself with the tender skin of Matthew's neck, but there is no escaping this because Matthew was staring straight into his eyes and he can't deny that he heard those dreaded words.

When they've finished, Arthur thinks he hears a sob escape those sweet lips.

* * *

"Tell me you love me."

Arthur stares at Matthew, unable to believe that he has really made such a bold request. He is positive that those are the words that left Matthew's mouth, but Arthur desperately hopes that he is wrong; he would not be able to lie if Matthew has really demanded a confession, and he is well aware that the truth will bring whatever he and Matthew have to an end.

But because Arthur is pathetic and wants the angel standing before him to remain his, he wants to confirm that this is really coming to an end, that there's no way to avoid this, "I beg your pardon?"

Matthew's gaze is pleading and hopeless and agonized, and Arthur feels as if he has been stricken when he asks, "Do you love me?"

He could lie, Arthur knows. He could speak words of adoration, words that would soothe Matthew's fears and assure him of Arthur's feelings for him. It would be ridiculously easy for him to continue with this game, to say words that hold no meaning and fool Matthew into staying with him. But Arthur has toyed with Matthew's heart for long enough; it's time to let him go.

Arthur takes one last look at Matthew, with his plump pink lips and strawberry blond hair. He drinks in the peach color of his skin, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and stroke his cheek, and loses himself in deep pools of purple, feeling Matthew's despair.

Those eyes…they're why Arthur must relinquish his hold on Matthew's heart.

"Well, Arthur?" Matthew's voice, soft and sweet, is strained with emotion, "Do you?"

Arthur sighs, closing his eyes so he does not have to look at Matthew, "No."

There's a brief silence, and for a moment the only sound heard is that of the wind blowing softly. It's November now, two years since he and Matthew met, and this conversation is long overdue, but that doesn't mean Arthur wants to see the expression Matthew has surely donned.

"W-what?" Matthew stammers, and Arthur imagines the confusion and sorrow painting his face, "Why would you stay with me for so long if you didn't love me?"

He's already been honest, might as well continue the trend, "You're gorgeous."

Arthur can almost feel the anticipation in the air, he knows that Matthew is expecting more, but that's all there is. And it must hurt, because that's what pushes Matthew over the edge, transforming his sorrow into rage.

"I'm 'gorgeous'." Matthew's voice is low and dangerous, fuelled by resentment and wounded feelings, "That's it."

He doesn't nod, he doesn't reply, he doesn't say anything. Arthur knows that he isn't meant to answer, he understands that Matthew is lashing out at him and knows that he deserves it.

"Look at me." Matthew orders, harsh and unforgiving, "At least have the _decency_ to look at me after you've broken my heart."

Arthur doesn't want to, but this is his fault, he's to blame, so he concedes. He wishes he hadn't; tears stream down his angel's face, staining that smooth skin and rimming those lovely eyes red. The eyes are the worst part, with their coldness and grief, and Arthur almost wants Matthew to hit him, to punish him for doing such a thing.

For breaking the angel.

"I'm sorry." Arthur tells him, more sincere than he has ever been, "I didn't want to hurt you."

Matthew glares at him, angrily wiping the tears away with the back of his hand, "You should have stayed away from me."

Arthur had tried, he had made efforts to distance himself, had attempted not to go down this road. But Matthew had been so inviting and warm and Arthur enjoyed being needed in the way that Matthew needed him; he loved the idea that someone so pure and lovely would ever want anything to do with him. Arthur had tried, but he had failed, and this is where the decisions he has made have led him.

He sighs, watching a leaf begin its descent to the ground, "I couldn't."

A bitter laugh escapes the angel's lips and Arthur winces at how off it sounds, "Did you _ever_ love me, Arthur?"

Arthur hesitates this time, because he isn't sure if he should tell the truth, but decides after a beat that he should, "No."

"Of course." Matthew smiles brokenly, not bothering to dry the rivulets of water that still flow down his cheeks, "I always loved you."

That's true as well: Matthew has always been drawn to Arthur, by his maturity and wittiness, based on what Matthew himself has told him. Matthew seeks him out, yearning for his genuine affection, which is the only thing that Arthur hasn't given the him. It's tragic, really, how the most beautiful person Arthur has ever met wants no one's love but his. Arthur has shattered Matthew, taken the untainted teen with stars in his eyes and toyed with him until the stars went out and only tears remained. Matthew longs for, and will continue to long for, the love of the man who has probably wronged him more than anyone else ever has.

Arthur nods, averting his eyes once more, "I know."

And then the angel is gone, and Arthur, the writer, the poet, the raconteur, spends his days spinning tales about an ethereal beauty who could not find love.

* * *

**A/N: I'm not really sure why I wrote that, but whatever.**

**Please review.**

**Until next time!**


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